Transitions
by Aiko Ryu
Summary: Takes place after the fifth book. After Sirius dies, Harry leaves the Wizarding World to live in a shady London drug den. When brought back home, can he transition back into his old way of life? Will someone take notice of this new, darker Harry? DM/HP
1. The Change REVISION

**A/N: Sooo, I decided to do a ****rewrite****. The original chapters sounded kind of different from my style of writing now, and had A LOT of grammatical errors. This chapter isn't much better, but eh, it will do. I was going to wait to update until I had the first 3 chapters all done, but I decided against it. So here it is, hope you like it! (For those that have read this already: It's not much different from the original, it just has different wording and grammaticism. All the same events happen in each chapter. So, you don't really have to read it.)**

**P.S- Still looking for a muse/beta!**

Summary: Takes place after 5th book. After Sirius dies, Harry leaves the Wizarding World, begins living in a shady London drug den, and becomes an addict. When brought back home, can he transition into his old life with new ways? Will someone new take notice of this darker, tougher Harry? Slash. DM/HP fic.

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. The delicious world of Harry Potter belongs all to the lovely Ms. Rowling.

Chapter 1: The Change

Harry let out a breath, long and deep, as the needle sank into his arm, releasing the amber substance. He could feel that glorified secretion, trickling through his veins like itching fingers, fast and slow all at once. It branched down his arms, engulfing his chest and eating at his heart, as he let his eyes flutter shut, raven black head of hair rest against the wall behind him, and took in a rattling breath. Screaming sounded outside his room, along with banging a few seconds later that shook the blank white walls around him. Soon it all became muffled as the heroin crowded his senses, filling his ears and eyes and nose, and running down in tiny rivulets across his face, his hands, his chest, his whole body. The handle on the door shook.

He ignored it, lying down on the floor, spread eagle on his back, a smile playing on his lips as he became engulfed in bliss.

* * *

Harry woke several hours later, his mouth dry and ears ringing. The sun was low, throwing mutinous rays through the fraying curtains and glinting off the jagged broken glass of one of the windowpanes.

He got up, stretched with cracking bones, and made his way over to the door, tripping over a body on the way. The figure was cloaked in dark brittle hair, spilled all over the floor like a dropped can of Coke. It was just Ruby; she'd always find some way into his room, locked or not. They slept together a lot, keeping each other company when the cold wind whistled through the broken place they called a residence. They weren't friends; Harry could truly say he wasn't "friends" with anyone he had met and lived with over the past few months. Things just didn't run that way in this house. But he and Ruby had a bond, the type that forges between two people when you share your first hit of heroin together.

He bent down stiffly, and turned her over. She was face down in a pool of her own sick, eyes closed almost peacefully, and cheeks ruddy as if she had ran a mile before collapsing in the middle of his room. Disgusting. Her pulse was normal and her breathing shallow but there, so he dragged her out of the smelly pool before heading out into the hall. The smell of stale cigarettes and trash made his stomach turn. The whole place made his stomach turn. He felt in his pocket for the two quid he had left, knowing that would get him nothing. He would have to work for his fix today.

"Bloody skeleton." came a low growl to his right, and he turned around to see Liam's face sticking out of his bedroom door, skin covered in angry sores and eyes permanently glazed over.

"Shove it." Harry replied weakly, momentarily wanting to throttle him. Harry was fully aware of how awful he looked. He could barely look in the mirror, knowing he'd see the dark shadows under his eyes, the constant pallor, and the bones sticking out of his skin. He was disgusting, just like the rest of them.

Liam managed to shoot him a concerned look through his broken state, shaking his bushy, tawny head, reminding Harry of someone he knew. _Used_ _to _know, he corrected himself mentally. "Get in."

The darkened room smelled like sweet burning rubbing. A girl sitting on Liam's lumpy mattress let her attention shift to him for one moment, frantic eyes telling her whole story, before dropping them back down to the cocaine burning in her hands. Harry sprawled out on the bed next to her not caring he didn't know her. All she cared about was what was in her hands. She was clinging onto it like it was a lifeline pulling her out from sea, or an anchor keeping her grounded, and he knew exactly how she felt. He was nothing without his heroin and he knew it. Sure, he knew his body could survive without it, but his mind at this point couldn't. His mind needed it and craved it. He wasn't one to disappoint.

Liam collapsed on the bed next to them, shoving a McDonald's burger into his hands. "Eat." He ordered, shivering, although the stuffy room was anything but cold. Liam was sick. Hell, they were all sick. Every one of them was dying slowly, killing them self more every day. But Liam was the worst. He was thoroughly broken.

"No." Harry pushed the burger back, but a shove returned it along with an answering cough, one that made Liam sound like he was drowning.

"Not hungry. Eat, you git." Liam replied, sitting back on his hands and surveying Harry once, twice, three times over. "You need to eat, you're looking right sickly. How're you going to make money if no one wants to touch you?" Harry threw him a murderous look, which softened as Liam gave another watery cough that made his stomach twist, so he crammed the burger into his mouth. It was cold, greasy, and cheap tasting, like the kind you get off the savers menu. Liam smiled at him, his grey-blue eyes focusing for a moment and becoming intense. His eyes strangely reminded him of someone. Someone who had died with laughter in those similar eyes. Harry's stomach flopped and he could taste the greasy burger at the back of his throat.

His mental walls were up in a millisecond, blocking out the images flooding in from his past, before he jumped up, mumbling some jumbled excuse and fleeing, out the door and out of the apartment.

* * *

Harry shoved his hands further into his tattered jacket, before stepping out into the harsh December wind. He could almost feel the fresh and crisp tenner he had just earned, like a weight in his pocket, a reminder of what he had been reduced to so that he could procure his fix. A common whore.

He supposed he didn't mind all too much; most people in the house tricked for their money, and most did much _more _than he ever would. It had taken him a while to get used to the heady scent and rough touches of a man, since most "prospects", as Liam called them, were men.

"_It's only a matter of time before you begin to enjoy it, love." _Liam's voice murmured, as flashes of harsh fingers and darkened eyes flew through his mind. And the bastard turned out to be right. As always.

"_...love." _

He supposed it had been a while since he had begun to separate love and sex as two completely different things. He had always thought of sex as something sacred, something to share with only a true lover; something sweet and delicious. But all of that had changed. Sex was now a device used to make money, money used to buy what he actually saw as love. Heroin was love.

He flipped his collar up as light rain began to fall, side-stepping little children and their mothers enjoying Christmas shopping. The holiday was a little over two weeks away and it'd be his first spending it alone in six whole years_._ He scowled up at a cheery mechanical Santa Claus in a store window and made a beeline for the nearest fast food joint.

* * *

Remus Lupin sat alone in an empty Muggle fast food restaurant, grease slick in the air. It was hot and stuffy, making him feel almost claustrophobic. Rain beat against the flushed windows, mechanical beeps and bangs of the machinery in the kitchen accompanying it. Six months had passed since anyone had last seen Harry. Six months of searching in vain. Six months the wizarding world had gone without their "Golden Boy". Remus was at his wits end. He didn't know where else to look, who else to talk to. The fiery fervor that he first began his search with was dimming, like smoldering ashes in a grate.

Six months ago, Remus showed up at the Dursley's place, thrilled to be picking up Harry, only to be told by that whale of a man that his charge had apparently left, just _left, _without any word or notice to anyone. Left behind was a room that looked as if no one had ever lived there, some personal belongings of his underneath a floor board, and a ripped pieced of parchment containing one line:

'_I'm going into the Muggle world. Don't look for me.'_

_- Harry_

Of course, first reaction was to think this was some scheme Voldemort thought up, that he somehow breeched the blood wards around Number 4 Privet Drive. After a while, it had become apparent that was not the case. It became clear that Harry left of his own free will.

Remus knew Harry didn't want to be found. That much was obvious. Nevertheless, that still didn't stop him from searching. He wanted to find Harry just to shake sense into that boy. The Muggle world wasn't where he belonged. He would have to realize that.

But now, he believed he was giving up. He was letting go of his last string to the past, and what he had once hoped, his future. He let his head fall into his hands.

"Can I just have a double cheeseburger off the savers menu please?" The voice rang out behind him, scratchy, but achingly familiar.

Amber eyes rose to fix on the figure at the cashier. He was strikingly frail looking, but almost delightfully so, with a certain grace that set heavy in his thin bones. His skin was pale, and he could see half of a sunken cheek and high cheekbone. A shock of ink black hair capped off the figure, and when he turned around, dull green eyes locked onto his. A missed heartbeat later, and Harry fled.

* * *

Rain beat down against him, pummeling him into the ground as Harry fled out into the street. He didn't go too far until a gentle but strong hand wrapped around his forearm. The musky scent of earth assailed his nose as he was pulled under a canopy of the closest store. The grip let go of him and he found himself staring up into the wide amber eyes of Remus Lupin. He flinched away, indignation crossing his features. Remus' face was heavy set with lines and more grey then ever sprinkled through his brown hair. He looked horrible.

"Yes?" Harry asked, forcing annoyance in his tone, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. Remus' amber eyes widened in surprise. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Harry thought he looked like a fish. Finally, after a few minutes of floundering on Remus' part and Harry's agitated sighs, Remus spoke. "Harry…Where have you been? Are you alright!?" His voice cracked, becoming louder and faster, like rushing water. "I've been looking for you for months and months and…Why did you leave?"

Harry stayed silent, annoyance in his eyes. They stared hard at each other before Lupin broke the silence. "Here," He said handing the food to Harry lightly, "I thought it would be better that your money not go to waste." Harry took the package slowly, before quickly shoving it into his coat pocket not taking his eyes off Lupin. Another moment passed before Lupin started again.

"Harry, I-." He began, before Harry's risen hand cut him short.

Harry swallowed hard before his voice was able to come out again. "Two o'clock tomorrow, here, alright?" he said harshly. Remus' eyes widened, being taken in surprise, before he vigorously shook his head yes.

"Great." Harry spat out, turned on his heel, and left.

* * *

**What do you think? Better? Worse? Tell me in reviews!**

~_**Aiko Ryu**_


	2. The Decision REVISION

**WARNING:**** Eventual slash, drug use and mention (obviously), bad language, and adult topics. This fic is rated M!**

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. The delicious world of Harry Potter belongs all to the lovely Ms. Rowling.

Chapter 2: The Decision

Harry took a deep drag from the cigarette in his hand, wishing he were a crueler person. Sitting outside of the McDonalds, he chastised himself for being so damn…sympathetic. When he told Remus to meet him the other day, his initial plan wasn't to actually, well, show up. He figured the lycanthrope would just give up after an hour of waiting. What did Harry care?

Well, apparently, he did care. Very much so. To the point of being a gormless fool. Harry could remember the pain clear in Remus' eyes, the physical strain in his voice. He'd never seen the older man look so desperate. He knew, once he left, he would affect pretty much everyone. He knew he had a large role in the wizarding world. But the moment his foot crossed the threshold of Number 4 Privet Drive, the moment he told himself he would no longer call that God forsaken place home, he stopped caring. He didn't care at all the whole six months he had been gone, to drugged up to even give it much thought. But now, as he sucked on that cigarette, his head clear and tongue numb, he knew how much of a prat he'd been for walking away. He gave up, impacting the whole of the British wizarding world. He wasn't being conceited; he honestly didn't think much of himself, but he knew how much the rest of the world thought of him.

He knew how much his friends thought of him. And he knew what they'd think of him now. He couldn't go back. For that reason, if nothing else.

Fighting back tears, Harry began to get up to leave, but was blocked as two legs stepped into his field of vision. Remus' face looked as lined as ever, saturated with concern. Harry opened his mouth, not really sure of what he was going to say, but Remus cut him off.

"Why don't we go to the place I'm staying at and talk, yeah?" Remus offered a hand, which Harry ignored, pushing himself up to his feet and following behind him, down the street.

Five minutes of silent walking later, Remus led Harry into a dingy old building, which led up dingy stairs to a dingy room. The room looked like an extremely small loft, with a sofa and chairs centered in the room, a kitchenette area to the left, and a small room leading to the water closet right of the door. A thin film of dust seemed to cover every surface, and the two dirty windows let in grimy light.

As Harry sagged onto the couch, Remus made himself busy in the kitchenette, setting a kettle on the stove, and pulling random ingredients from the fridge.

"It isn't much, but it's all I could find. Every where's bloody booked during the holidays." his voice called from the kitchen.

Harry said nothing.

Remus sank into the armchair next to Harry, placing a pot of tea and tray of sandwiches on the coffee table. A moment of silence passed before Remus exhaled.

"You smoke now?" Remus asked staring hard at Harry, as if trying to see what was under the head of raven hair. Harry stared back at him defiantly but said nothing. Silence. It filled Harry's ears, tickling at his nose. Silence was a funny thing.

Remus seemed to start to say something, but stopped himself. Harry knew what he was going to say. It was the same thing everyone else would say to him, if he would have ever gone back to his old life. This pissed him off.

"What the hell do you what, Lupin?"

Remus' head jerked back as if punched in the face, eyes startled. He seemed taken aback by Harry's rudeness.

"Well?" Lupin just stared.

"Uh," Lupin began, looking pensive, "I've been looking for you for a long time, you know. Everyone has. Everyone wants you back. You scared the daylights out of us when you suddenly went missing. We thought Voldemort got a hold of you." Harry, bouncing his foot up and down, looked bored.

"We just want to help."

Harry looked at him. But this time really looked. There was, of course, the usual wrinkles and scars. Lines of worry, and stress. Laughing lines, and frowning lines. But there seemed to be something else. There was heaviness in Remus' face that wasn't there before. Purplish-black plagued the underneath of his eyes and his jaw seemed too big for his face. His five o'clock shadow became more apparent from his pale skin, and his huge amber eyes seemed dull, and lifeless.

Harry's stomach clenched.

"No." he said simply, crossing his arms to contain himself. He felt like he'd burst if he didn't. Well, at least he knew he wasn't completely apathetic.

"…no?" Remus seemed confused by the word, as if the simpleness of the statement was incomprehensible. He paused, looking pained. "Sirius wouldn't of wanted you to handle it this way." At the words, Harry shot up out of his seat.

"Don't you dare talk to me about him!" he yelled, kicking a leg of the coffee table, making the tea cups rattle and a pickle bounce onto the floor. If Harry had a temper before, it was nothing like it was now. The drugs saw to that. Breathing hard, he clenched his fists, but didn't run. Just this once.

He sank back into his chair, resuming his previous position.

Harry watched as Remus slowly retracted his hand from his pocket, knuckles white. Harry scowled. Bloody wizards.

"Have some tea, Harry." Remus said suddenly, pushing a cup towards him. Harry stared, before picking it up and sniffing. Deciding it wasn't dangerous, he took a small sip. The hot liquid burnt his tongue, and scorched his throat as it rushed down his esophagus. He set the cup down as Remus pushed the plate of sandwiches at him as well, urging him to take one. He chose the one that looked the most meager, nibbled on the side before flinging it back down. The combination made his stomach turn and his head spin, but he tried to ignore it. The room was silent for a few minutes before Lupin sighed and closed his eyes. The weak look on his face made Harry jumped up in surprise, guilt flooding through his mental barriers.

"I need to go." He said, making his way to the door. He distracted himself from his emotions by thinking of the hit he had waiting for him at home.

"Just…hang on." Remus called weakly. "Just let me try. I have to go back anyways after the holidays. Let me try to convince you. Come back here tomorrow, and we'll talk. By the time I have to go, if you're not convinced, I'll leave you alone. I'll tell the others to as well. Just give me another chance. Please."

Harry looked contemplative for a minute, his eyes glazing in thought. Remus couldn't help but stare. The young man in front of him looked nothing like he used to. His hair was long, and as messy as ever, though instead of hanging limp at his shoulders, it stuck straight up and out, as if styled. Shadows underneath his eyes made him look rougher, and his sunken cheeks displayed his immaculate bone structure. He looked older and more experienced. For once in his life, his all black Muggle clothes seemed to fit, and showed off his thin frame. A thin line in between his eyebrows appeared, as he seemed to make his decision.

"Fine, tomorrow then." He said, before yanking the door open and leaving.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Harry continued to visit with Remus, each visit just as stressful as the next. Although his exterior façade didn't show it, Harry's resolve began to slip. He didn't want to go back, he _couldn't _go back. But soon he found himself thinking of his friends. Of the world he left behind.

He couldn't deny it; he absolutely loved magic. Magic was the only thing that kept him going when he discovered it, the only link he had to his parents. With magic, Harry was powerful. Without, he was broken, reduced to sucking dick for money. Pathetic.

He looked back wistfully over the life he used to lead, as if he was an old man nearing his death, reminiscing about a long lost lover. The memories were not as painful as he thought they would be. They would enter his mind, envelope him, caressing him lovingly and inviting him back. They took over him, almost as strong as heroin, and almost as dear. Sometimes, while he cradled the needle in the crook of his arm, the cold glass stinging his skin, he longed for the warm wood of wand. The power that rushed through him, like a crackling fire.

"Shit!"

Harry caught himself on the wall, muttering expletives as he tripped over some unknown object. He peered over his shoulder, spying two bodies. One, he identified as Liam, lying face up, his frizzy, tawny hair wild and untamed. The other was some chick he was sure he'd met at a party once. Her long, blonde curls and sleepy looking round face reminded him of Luna. It was uncanny.

Both were face up, as if they passed out on the spot, a syringe a few feet away from them, the girl clutching a bottle at her side. The air around them was stuffy, and completely dead. Something wasn't right.

Harry cautiously inched towards them. He could see the girls chest rising very, very slowly, and as he got closer, a soft rattle issued from her parted lips. Something still was off.

He inched over to Liam. That was it. Liam was strangely still. Too still. Close up, he could see a trickle of dark red coming from the corner of his mouth. His skin was pale, and papery looking, and his veins shined bright blue underneath. His eyes weren't closed all the way; Harry could see the dark pupils through his lashes, and his lips looked almost blue. Harry backed up quickly.

He'd seen that look before. He'd seen it on Cedric Diggory's face.

Harry's stomach turned and twisted into thousands of little knots. Metallic tasting bile rose up into his throat as he gritted his teeth and got up, stepping over the bodies to go to his room. He locked the door behind him.

He broke.

He didn't want to end up like that. Dead. Because of a drug.

His parents didn't die for him to grow up to become some two bit whore on the streets, doing anything to pay for his drug habit. Sirius didn't die for him to kill himself.

He collected his pitiful amount of stuff, shoving it all into a backpack. Not looking at the bodies, he crossed the living room and left.

* * *

"Ready?" Remus smiled, showing his teeth in an almost animalistic way.

Harry nodded back, giving him a light smile. He felt flushed and sweaty, nervous energy pulsating through his body. It was two days after he found Liam and that girl on the living room floor, and he was getting ready to floo back to Hogwarts. Yesterday, he and Remus stopped by Number 4 to collect everything he stashed in his closet and the compartment in the floorboards: his broom, his trunk, books, robes, wand. His reason for keeping it all was that it'd be a waste to just throw it all away, or burn it, but he knew that wasn't true. He couldn't throw it all away; he didn't have the heart to.

His hand shook as he nervously ran it through his hair for the hundredth time that hour. He hadn't taken a hit for nearly two days and he felt like complete shit. His physical need wasn't as bad as his mental need, though, thank God. He'd seen how bad complete addicts got when they were detoxing. His condition was nothing compared to that. A fly on an elephant.

He reached a pale hand into the purple sack offered to him, grabbing a handful of Floo powder. The cool, smoothness in his hand heated as the old feeling of magic flared up around him. It rushed through his veins, as water through an open dam, making his hair stand on end. He could almost smell it in the air around him. He felt elated.

"Hogwarts!" he yelled, after stepping into the green flames. He was going back.

* * *

**Hate it? Love it? Tell me in reviews!**

**~Aiko Ryu**

**P.S Still looking for a muse!**


	3. The First Night

**WARNING: Light(ish) smut in this chapter! If this is not your cup of tea, well, I don't think much of this fic will be either.**

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. The delicious world of Harry Potter belongs to the lovely Ms. Rowling.

Chapter 3: The First Night

"You understand what I expect of you, don't you?"

Dumbledore's smooth, emotionless voice washed over Harry, but not in the gentle, caressing way it once did. Harry nodded slightly, his head lowered, not daring to look Dumbledore in the eyes. He knew what he'd see there. Even earlier, when he absolutely had to look him straight on Harry avoided his gaze. The absence of Dumbledore's usual twinkled was apparent even without having to look.

Harry wanted to run; just book it. He did not want to be there anymore. Maybe it was the horrible reception, or maybe it was just his realization that his hope was false. He could not go through with this. It was impossible. Dumbledore was only one man, the first man. How would it be when school was back in session?

A sigh issued from Dumbledore. "Well, you and one other first year have the whole of Gryffindor tower to yourself for the next week. Students arrive on Saturday, and classes commence Monday."

Harry nodded again, staring at the desk in front of him. If he squinted his eyes a little bit, he could almost see the shape of Snape's head in the grain.

"Remus, if you don't mind, I would like for you to…help with Harry's magic for the time being. I don't know what affects his actions have had. I will, of course, supply adequate rooming and nourishment."

Harry was pretty sure Remus replied, but he stopped listening after that. For a few minutes, no dialogue was directed towards him, so he let himself go blank. He felt numb.

He jumped when Remus laid a hand on his shoulder and let him lead him out of the office, and through the castle. The silence between them was deafening. Harry didn't mind. After a few minutes of Remus' fretting and Harry being settled in, Harry was finally left alone.

The dorm room smelled the same. There was the usual tinge of dirty socks and sweat, common and ever present in each of the boys' dormitories. Each bed issued its own smell; Neville's of freshly turned earth and leather, Ron's of baking bread, Dean's of Muggle pencil shavings and ink, Seamus' of rained on grass and soap. They were all warm and soft smells. Hints of polished pine assailed Harry's nose, dancing with notes of potions ingredients and vanilla. The old smell of magic that permeated every hall of the castle topped it all off. It was comforting in an abstruse way.

Harry let himself gracelessly fall onto his bed face up. His bed smelled of nothing. Free air and emptiness.

His guilt was almost unbearable. It was almost enough to make him leave and completely forget his decision to come back. He didn't know if he could survive this.

A sharp tap on the closest window next to him brought Harry out of his thoughts. Hedwig. He smiled, rushing over to let her in. Before he left, he sent her away to the Weasley's, figuring she would be in good hands. He didn't explain to them why she would be there, he knew they'd figure it out after his note was found. Flying in through the open window, she landed on his shoulder and pecked hard at his ear. He cursed, touching at his ear and coming away with dark blood on his fingers.

"I'm –I'm sorry girl."

He reached out to pet her feathers tentatively, receiving a sharp but gentler nip. Hedwig swished her big amber eyes around, giving Harry a peculiarly human like look, before flying back out of the open window. Even his animal hated him.

For the next few days, Harry spent most of the time in his dormitory. Remus would come in the afternoons to help his "magic recovery" as he called it. They would spend a few hours, shooting spell after spell at each other and random objects. The first day was extremely difficult; he almost had a complete breakdown when he couldn't control the power of his spells. His levitation spells sent objects flying upwards towards the roof of the room, his heating spells made things burst into flames. By the third day, his control was in check, and Remus began teaching him stuff he missed over the last semester. It was easy to catch up. Harry had never been stupid, but he had never been Hermione either. He thought it would all feel foreign and difficult, but he was wrong. He was powerful, and surprisingly, a little bit more so than before.

Thursday afternoon, Harry sat in the large windowsill by his bed, his nose buried in a Potions book. A tremor ran through him; something that had been happening regularly since he stopped shooting up. He'd been sober for five whole days, the longest ever since he left six months ago. He constantly felt sweaty and flush, and his hands always shook. Still, this wasn't enough. His guilt would not let him touch the stash he kept in his trunk.

A sharp tap at his window caught his attention. He let Hedwig in, who gave him a sharp nip before flying off. Glad that her horrible temper subsided, Harry wandered over to his bed, unfolding the parchment. It only had one line of neat, familiar writing.

_Your presence would be greatly appreciated at dinner tonight._

_  
A.P.W.B. Dumbledore_

"Fuck."

Harry groaned. He'd skipped out on eating most days, occasionally going out on excursions during the middle of the night to force himself to eat. It still made him feel sick, but he knew it would help his recovery. Plus, he didn't have much else to do at night when sleep did not come.

He'd have to go tonight. It would be a slap in the face to Dumbledore if he didn't. Harry did not want to be on Dumbledore's bad side. The note was curt enough. He let out another stream of expletives.

Harry smoothed down his tight fitting black shirt, and ran shaky, sweating hands through his hair. He could hear the soft tinkling of plates, utensils, and cups, lingering with the soft whispers of conversation coming from the other side of the Great Hall doors. He had been standing outside of the Hall for the past three minutes arguing with himself about going in. To make matters worse, he was late. No matter how quickly he would try to slip in, all eyes would be on him. He rubbed his sweaty palms off on his favorite pair of black jeans; ones he stole after being sick of Dudley's oversized rags. He had to face it and go in. Interaction between him and multiple others would have to happen eventually.

He took a breath, before pushing open the large doors.

"Glad to have you join us Harry!" Dumbledore's booming voice called.

Bastard. Harry smiled politely at Dumbledore as every head at the table turned towards him. Their eyes burned like hot knives as he made the long trip down the Great Hall towards the long table, centered at the other end of the room. He kept his eyes down, only looking up twice to throw a smile at Remus and glance over to the only empty seat at one end of the table. He sat down quickly, looking down at the table, while conversation slowly resumed, though he could still feel the curious glances thrown at him periodically.

Keeping his eyes lowered, he began placing random bits of food on his plate and pushing it around. It almost looked like he was eating if no one watched him too closely. He told himself everything was okay. No one cared enough.

Slowly he lifted his head, allowing himself to look up, only to meet a pair of grey eyes. Deep grey eyes, stormy, flecked with pinpricks of silvery light. Rich black rimmed the silvery orbs, as deep as the grey, and just as lively. Dark blond lashes framed the eyes, heavy as rain-drenched wheat at twilight. Absolutely beautiful. Harry could not look away.

It was a strange feeling. He couldn't seem to look beyond the eyes. He felt like he was looking through the lens of a zoomed digital camera, focused on only one detail of a painting. And then it was all gone as quickly as it happened. Eyelids blinked over the intense stare, which became replaced with the shiny hair of a bowed head.

Harry allowed his vision to zoom out, eyes widening before he quickly returned his vision to his plate. Malfoy. Woah. He definitely was not expecting that. He sneaked a peek upward; Malfoy was still staring down at his plate. He waited for the usual surge of anger that filled him whenever a mention of the boy, but it didn't come. He felt nothing. It was different, and he wasn't sure what to think about it.

Sure, Harry had changed while he was gone. It's sort of in-fucking-evitable when you live in a drug den. He held back a snort at the thought. But where was that familiar emotion? He missed it. Even the stare between the two of them was different. There was no hatred. Just pure intensity.

The tinkling of glass broke through Harry's thoughts and he returned his attention back to reality.

"This 'ere's great, isn't it 'arry!" Remus' food laden voice came from his side.

Harry crept down the darkened halls of Hogwarts, making his way for the kitchen. Dinner was too much of a confusing affair for him to have eaten more than a few bites. The stares were not the problem, they quickly became commonplace. He just felt a little mind fucked. Not to mention the raging hard on that plagued him all through dinner. One that wouldn't go away. Even now. And what was even more of a mind-fuck: that hard on was produced by Draco Malfoy. Yup, he said it. Draco Malfoy was fucking beautiful.

"Shit." Harry groaned, flailing in the darkness to find the nearest wall to lean on. Maybe he got a little _too_ used to having sex with guys. He couldn't help it. Malfoy just had this…thing about him.

Harry let himself wander a little farther down the hall, fingers trailing along the cool hard stonewalls. He stopped at the nearest window to look out. The sky was a rich purple, deep and majestic, with big, bright stars gleaming like metal glinting in the sun. A large moon hung low in the sky, yellow and exaggerated by the darkened treetops of the Forbidden Forest framing the horizon. Clean, cool air radiated from the window, tasting like fresh water and pine trees.

Harry leaned against the wall besides the window, raking his fingers through his hair. The delightful cold surface brushed against his back. He felt flushed, sweaty, hot and bothered. His erection was almost painful.

Complete silence reached his ears, and a thick layer of darkness misconstrued everything. He could barely see his hand a few feet away from his face. His forgotten wand lay silently on his bedside table; he still wasn't used to carrying it around everywhere.

Suddenly, as fast as a fire catches to kerosene, the empty personal space around Harry vanished and a warm body pressed up against the length of his. He could feel a tongue at his throat, puffs of hot breath warming his skin, fingers grasping onto his curly locks, and a hand traveling down his torso, grabbing, squeezing, and caressing. His nostrils filled with the delicious scent of lemons and musk. Whoever was groping him was too close for him to make out recognizable features. He could see nothing, but feel everything; the tickle of hair on his face, a knee pressed into his thigh, a heartbeat against his chest. He wanted to fight it; he so desperately wanted to get whoever the hell it was off of him, but soon that hand traveled lower and lower, snaking past the waistband of his jeans and –oh God, that felt brilliant.

His hand clawed at the cold stone behind him, palms making it wet and slick, while the other found its way into the hair of his debaucher, silky strands slipping through his fingers. His eyes squeezed shut and his teeth bit at his lip, making it swell to a delicious red. He felt like this was his first time being touched all over again. Fornication never felt this good, and he was not even being fucked. Sex with Liam was never this great either.

The tongue moved to his earlobe, letting out a hiss from clenched teeth, while the hand in his pants gripped tighter, making Harry let out a moan, long and loud. The faceless hand seemed to like it when he moaned, and soon he was coming, shaking and shivering and cursing. Sweat stained his brow and heat flooded his cheeks.

There was a moment were all movement seemed to stop, and silence deafened as the breaths of the two bodies moved in sync. A kiss tasting like sweet, sweet lemons was placed on Harry's lips, soft and slow, before it was gone, carried away with the loud slapping of feet on flagstones. Harry couldn't care at the moment, he felt too fucking good, not coherent enough to notice anything else but the bliss that seemed to be seeping into his every bone and joint.

Harry completely forgot his glass of milk.

**Hate it? Love it? Have questions? Tell/ask me in reviews and emails! I'll chat with anyone pretty much! :D**

**AND I'm still looking for a muse/beta, and I'm quite desperate to tell the truth. So, if you're good with grammar and mechanics (because I am definitely not!), have good ideas, and think we can be cohesive in thoughts and ideas, please, message and email me (aiko_).**

_**~Aiko Ryu**_


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